


Laughed and Loved Too Much

by scarletalphabet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Sprinkling of Comic Universe Backstory, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/F, Hand & Finger Kink, Humor, Languages and Linguistics, Totally By Accident I Swear, post-AoU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletalphabet/pseuds/scarletalphabet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you'd asked her even a week before, Maria Hill would not have predicted that Natasha Romanoff would be spilling her deepest emotions to her on top of a mountain.  And by spilling her deepest emotions she meant slowly revealing a few of her thoughts.  And by on top of a mountain she meant at 1300 feet.  Close enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughed and Loved Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> The title and quote come from Orlando Jones. The joke is from tumblr. Translations for the other language bits at the end of the story.

Maria slowed as she climbed up the last incline of the mountain, not out of weariness but out of hope and dread for who she'd find up there. She was on a self-assigned mission to find where Natasha had gone, spurred by Tony's offhand comment about not having seen her in a while. She didn't know quite what she'd say when she found Natasha, but she couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling deep within that Natasha could use a friend.

As soon as she crested the hill she saw Natasha sitting there on a bench intended as a comfortable spot to enjoy the view. It didn't look as comfortable with Natasha perched perilously on the backrest, but her balance wasn't wavering. Maria wasn't foolish enough to think that she needed to announce herself, especially given the crunch of her feet against the sticks and leaves that scattered the hillside. She set herself on the end of the bench furthest from Natasha. Contrary to the other woman she decided to use the seat for its intended purpose, but she copied Natasha's outward gaze. Maybe it would be easier to not talk face to face. Easier for whom, she wasn't quite sure. Maria sat there, occupying the silence by mentally reviewing her to do list. It seemed like it had doubled in length as soon as the new Avengers facility had been readied. She supposed she should be grateful that it hadn't tripled. 

“How'd you find me?” Natasha asked what felt like several minutes later.

Maria's eyes flicked over to where Natasha was sitting, noting the fingers on her restless hands dancing as they intertwined with themselves. “You wouldn't leave without telling anybody,” she responded, forcing herself to look away and hope that Natasha hadn't noticed. “Not for good anyhow. And I knew you wouldn't stray outside of range just in case the shit the fan. Again.” 

Maria felt the slightest flinch of surprise from Natasha. She normally kept her language tightly controlled in a work environment, a habit borne from military training and a childhood spent with a father whose language was far too colorful. She shrugged, knowing full well that Natasha was looking at her out of the corner of her eye. “This was the third place I checked,” she added. “The only mountain though.”

“I wouldn't really call it a mountain,” Natasha told her, the lightness of her words sounding forced to Maria's practiced ears. “More of a...hill?” She shot Maria a glance that she couldn't help but interpret as nervous.

Maria shook her head. Natasha must be bad off if she was trying to make such a bad pun. “Fair enough,” she replied simply, following her lead. She hadn't spent all that much time in upstate New York, but she at least knew its basic terrain.

“Fury send you after me?” Natasha asked, still staring straight ahead at the view of the landscape below. “козёл.”

Maria's Russian was sporadic at best, but she couldn't imagine that meant anything flattering despite the lack of bite in Natasha's tone. “I was worried about you,” Maria said, settling for honesty. “None of the others seemed particularly concerned with your absence.” The knot of worry in her stomach turned into a sickening feeling when Natasha didn't give her characteristic protest that no one should worry about her. 

“How do you handle it?” Natasha blurted out.

Maria's gaze snapped to her in confusion. “Handle it?” she echoed.

“You know,” Natasha shrugged, failing to stay casual. “The risk.”

Maria considered her next words carefully. Natasha was well used to the job's risk of injury or death, insomuch as one could ever be used to it, so there was really only one option left. “Do you know how I came to SHIELD?” she asked, turning her body to face Natasha. She waved one hand dismissively. “It's in my file, but I can't imagine that you've read everyone's.”

“Military, right?” Natasha guessed, her voice strong with confidence.

“For a while anyhow,” Maria replied. That much was easy to spot.

“You still carry yourself like that,” Natasha told her. “Straight-backed and polished like there's a different kind of animal looking over your shoulder. I have read your file though.”

“Do you know why I left?” Maria ventured. It wasn't a secret that she kept from her friends, nor was it anything hidden from anyone who had access to her file and could do the math. 

Natasha finally turned to look at Maria, cocking her head with interest.

“I'm gay,” Maria said, looking down to where someone had scratched “SG + SS” into the middle plank of the bench. “Made it pretty far up the ranks until someone decided that he'd rather take orders from someone less competent than someone who had zero interest in him.”

“But if they didn't ask?” Natasha started, trailing off to let Maria finish the thought.

Maria shrugged. “The whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing was a little bit misleading,” she explained, surprised to feel that the recollection was only bringing to the surface the hurt of nostalgia. “I had a picture of my girlfriend at the time with me. A civilian, back in Wisconsin. I had to be careful sure, but some of the guys knew. Maybe it was foolish, but by that point I'd started to figure that nobody lies on their death bed and says, 'You know, I really laughed and loved too much. I really should have hated more.'” She tossed her hat around in her hands, still feeling pressed to explain despite Natasha's quiet support. “Just because I don't parade it as openly as some doesn't meant that I don't love just as fiercely. Or laugh for that matter.”

“Well things are hardly better back...home,” Natasha stated. “Putin,” she spat viciously. “I'd call him a cunt but he lacks the depth or the warmth.”

Maria shook her head, startled by the sudden show of fire. “Guess I've gone past the point I was aiming at,” she admitted, feeling a new fluttering of nerves. “The real point is...the point is that while it may make you vulnerable, love's better than the opposite. Shouldn't let your guard down completely, but even castles have drawbridges.” She snorted as soon as the words left her mouth. “Awful analogies aside,” she added. She foundered for some closing bit of advice that would brighten Natasha's mood. “Anyhow, I suppose if I was more cynical I'd say that you're fucked either way so it might as well be the enjoyable way.” Natasha's laugh, brief as it was, brought a smile to Maria's face. Worth it.

Natasha slid off of the backrest to sit on the bench closer to Maria. “Bruce,” she revealed.

Maria smiled down at her. “Doesn't really surprise me,” she said, hoping that her calm expression wouldn't be taken for disregard. It wasn't like there were too many options among the Avengers and long-time SHIELD folk. If she didn't know about Barton's family she could easily have mistaken his and Natasha's deep friendship for something else. “You two work well together, though contrary to what some might believe, you work well with a lot of people, Romanoff.” 

“Platitudes,” Natasha mumbled.

Maria arched one eyebrow at her. “Do I lie?” she asked. “Except when the fate of the world is at stake I mean,” she hurriedly added before Natasha called her out on that one.

“I thought...there was a chance...” Natasha broke off and took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself against the urge to run. “I used to think that love was for children,” she continued. “Sure I can enjoy sex, but if I wanted something without attachment I'm sure that I could find a willing person without too much trouble. Even aside from the people who'd give their right arm to say they'd slept with the Black Widow. Maybe some of them would even be interested in more than the tabloids. At least for a night.”

Maria suppressed both a defensive growl at those who would take advantage of Natasha and the odd twinge of hope that she felt at the use of the word “person” in that instance. She'd never heard Natasha talk this much about herself (at least not without the goal of advancing the mission somehow) and she wasn't about to turn her off by acting like some over-eager terrier.

“You know Clint's kids?” Natasha prompted.

“Yeah,” Maria replied casually, not wanting to throw Natasha off track by admitting that between the upheavals at SHIELD and her job at Stark Industries she'd almost forgotten that Barton had a wife and kids until last week. She'd worked with Fury to keep it off the record, but it had quickly been buried by more pressing matters.

“Auntie Nat they call me,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile despite herself. “I know...I know I can't have that. Bruce understood. But maybe I could have had something.” She trailed off, a slight clench in her jaw as if she had been making a masochistic effort to force herself through the conversation. The word 'family' lingered unspoken in the air.

The responding tight pain in Maria's chest felt as real as any physical injury. She hating whining about the unfairness of the world, but damn it if anyone had been through enough shit to deserve some happiness, it was Natasha. Her right hand reached out for Natasha, but halfway through that thought she dropped it back down to the bench, picking at a flake of wood. “I can't speak for Dr. Ba-Bruce,” she said, switching to his first name to match Natasha. “I don't know. Maybe it's not the right time.” She swallowed the urge to add 'or the right person.' Wherever that came from. “I can't speak for you either,” she continued, “But I at least know a little bit of where you're coming from. By the time I was 26 it felt like half my college friends, at least the straight ones, were engaged. Some even had kids. Hell, some of the middle school kids I used to tutor when I was a senior in high school have kids now. I probably sound a hell of a lot more confident about this than I feel sometimes, and it's almost disgustingly Hallmark-y, but I'm just optimistic enough to believe that it can't be over for me. Do I occasionally feel like I'm losing some kind of invisible race? Sure. I'll admit it fucking sucks sometimes seeing people playing happy families.” The curse slipped out as her tone took on an edge of darkness remembering her own less than stellar childhood. “And I don't even know if I want kids,” she added, her voice softening as she struggled to regain control of where she wanted the conversation to go.

“You know what keeps me going?” she asked, forcing a cheerful smile onto her face in an effort to brighten her voice. “That I'm out here every day, doing something important, though I'm not foolish enough to believe that I'm the only one who could do this. I don't wait around expecting the great love of my life to fall out of the sky into my lap, but neither am I out there every day trying to find this 'one' people keep talking about. However mythical she may seem at times.”

“I don't think you give yourself enough credit,” Natasha said, her smile seeming a little more at ease on her face. “Every theatre needs its stage manager.” She cocked her head in thought before adding, “Though I'm not sure that many stage managers regularly battle aliens, robots, and the kitchen sink. One prop forgotten though, the whole production is, as you put it, fucked, and not in the enjoyable way. Maria Hill: saving all of the world, getting none of the credit.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Now I sound like one of those meme things. And that's not even half of what a stage manager does either. Anatoly would be so disappointed in me.”

Maria couldn't help the burst of laughter that rang out, drowning out the last bit of Natasha's sentence. “Do you remember when Barton showed Rogers that meme site?” she wondered, her mind darting off on a tangent away from the urge to ask Natasha who Anatoly was.

Natasha mouth twitched for a moment before she too started laughing. Her hair bounced with every shake of her head as she tried to respond. “An—and I feel bad laughing about it, but remember how he thought Clint had made those first few? And he actually thought that Clint would shoot people in the knees without good reason? Did you know that we had to sit through the entirety of Titanic just to explain the 'draw me like one of your French girls' ones? Though Pepper was in New York that week and strangely enough had never seen it.”

“Really?” Maria replied in disbelief. “Pepper managed to get away with never seeing it for so long? That's surprising.” She'd gotten to know Pepper a lot better since she'd (temporarily and not completely) left SHIELD, respecting her a great deal as a kindred spirit in the 'get shit done come Hell or high water' department. "And I'm amazed you even heard about the kitchen sink incident,” she added. “It was barely a blip on SHIELD's radar, and before your time, Romanoff.” 

Natasha's head recoiled in surprise at Maria's words. “There actually was a kitchen sink incident? I thought that was just one of those American idioms. And please, call me by my first name. Especially when we're out of the office so to speak.”

“You can take the girl out of the military, but you can't take the military out of the girl,” Maria joked, ignoring the fact that she'd been calling Natasha by her first name in her thoughts for quite a while. Rogers had even got a first name mention during the fall of SHIELD. What could she say, her emotions were running high. A memory was suddenly jarred to the forefront of her mind, eliciting a snort of laughter. “Did I ever tell you what Ward said about you?”

“Asshat,” Natasha hissed, her eyes narrowed in anger.

“A lot nicer than the word I would have used,” Maria acknowledged. “I was only half-serious when I told him I'd tell you, but with the dust settling I might as well.” She took a breath, enjoying the free and clear air of the mountainside. “He said that if Fury, and I quote, 'needed eye candy around, he could have at least picked Romanoff.'”

Natasha let out a rapid-fire string of Russian, speaking too fast for Maria to even pick out any familiar syllables. Her hands clenched into fists as she glared off into the distance. “Вот ведь козёл!” she declared.

“Shit, I'm sorry, Natasha,” Maria said, reaching out a hand to cover one of Natasha's in an effort to calm her. “I didn't mean to upset you.” Guess she shouldn't tell her that Ward had been back working with Coulson's team, if only doing so as a last resort.

“No,” Natasha said, finally realizing that Maria couldn't understand what she'd said. “I guess that I should be mad at that little fucker for being stupid enough to buy into the idea that I'm only eye candy because I'm a woman, but he's twice an idiot for not seeing the potential in front of him.”

Maria gulped as her pulse quickened, noticing that Natasha hadn't brushed off her hand. What exactly was Natasha getting at? She'd be lying if she said she'd never considered the possibilities where Natasha was concerned (gorgeous, incredibly skilled, and trustworthy were a deadly trifecta), but she'd discarded the idea as a passing fantasy when more important matters took precedence. “Nat?” she ventured, not wanting to presume anything.

“I think...maybe you're right,” Natasha said slowly, looking up at her. “I've never given it a great deal of thought. I couldn't, and by the time I at least had the luxury of ability, I didn't know how.”

“What about Bruce?” Maria heard herself ask. She cursed herself for putting up obstacles, but she'd rather that than Natasha making a move she'd regret.

“We can still work well together,” Natasha explained, sounding more sure of herself with each word. “Once he pulls his head out of his ass that is. We're friends. Maybe things will change there. Maybe they won't. You're right though, I'd be foolish to wait around for someone to fall into my lap and ignore the potential in front of me.”

Maria hadn't said those words to change Natasha's mind, rather to share her own perspective in case it was of any use, but she felt a thrill of excitement run through her at hearing them reflected back. If she'd been standing she felt like she would have been bouncing on her toes in nervous anticipation. God she felt like a teenager all over again, furtively sneaking around Chicago with her first girlfriend when her dad was too drunk to care. No, the ball had to be firmly in Natasha's court on this one, no matter how much exposition it took.

“And not just because you're literally in front of me right now,” Natasha added, leaning up to press her lips to Maria's at long last. She moved tentatively at first, testing the waters. A brief moment of shock later she was met with Maria's eager response, her subconscious giggle of relief melting into the rough glide of her lips over Natasha's. Maria brought one hand behind the back of Natasha's head, pulling her in closer as she used her other hand to steady herself on the bench. It wouldn't do to fall into Natasha's lap, at least not just yet. Her eyes closed as she focused all her attention on the deepening the contact of their lips. Somehow Natasha's mouth tasted like mint leaves, the fresh but earthy smell still lingering on her lips.

Maria pulled back at a sudden stab of pain, her eyes flying open.

“What's wrong?” Natasha asked, her back instinctively going ramrod straight.

Maria flipped her hand over, wincing at the surprisingly large splinter of wood that was jammed in her palm. “Bigger than I thought,” she muttered, drawing her other hand away to pull it out.

Natasha reached one hand out to still her. “Let me,” she said, gently pulling Maria's free hand back to rest on her knee. She took the splintered hand in both of hers, lifting Maria's palm up to her face to get a better look.

Maria's inhale caught in her throat. If it wasn't for the surprising amount of pain that the little piece of wood was causing (nothing compared to your run of the mill alien invasion injury, but surprising nevertheless), there would be something subtly erotic about the care that Natasha took with something so simple. Her warm breath ghosted across Maria's hand as she examined every angle.

“So there's three cats competing in a race,” Natasha began.

“What?” Maria replied, trying to settle her hazy thoughts enough to consider the non-sequitur. 

“There’s an American cat named 'one two three',” Natasha continued on, “A German cat named 'eins zwei drei', and a french cat named 'un deux trois'. The cats all swim across a lake. The American cat finishes first, the German cat finishes second, but the French cat is nowhere to be found. Why?” This time she stopped and looked at Maria as if she expected an answer.

“Um,” Maria stammered, trying to figure out if this was supposed to be some weird brain teaser, a riddle, a joke, or what. “Because the French cat was too smart to swim across the lake?” She knew it was a total stab in the dark, but really, what were cats doing swimming in the first place?

“Because the un deux trois quatre cinq,” Natasha replied as if it were obvious.

Maria felt peals of laughter burst forth at the pun even before the sound of her own laughter reached her ears. Her shoulders shook as the awful but brilliant wordplay sank in. A far corner of her mind registered a slight sensation, but it vanished as her laughter continued, nearly doubling her over. “Oh god,” she exclaimed, pausing to try and catch her breath before breaking down into laughter again. “It's bad yet hilarious at the same time.”

When Maria had recovered sufficiently to breathe normally once more, she focused back on Natasha. She noticed that Natasha still held her hand, though not as delicately as before. “So, time to pull out that splinter then,” she stated.

Natasha let Maria's hand fall down to her lap and held up the item in question, a drop of blood visible on the end. “It was bigger than it looked,” she agreed. She flicked it away into the trees at the edge of the clearing. “What is it they tell kids?” she asked, picking up Maria's hand again. “A kiss will make it better?” With her eyes focused intently on Maria's face, she drew the injured hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. She sucked lightly on the spot where the splinter had been, soothing the sting and drawing away the tiny dot of blood that lay there.

Maria couldn't help the moan that escaped her mouth, her body shivering at the sensuality of the primitive act. She was such a goner. She allowed herself one final moment to revel in it before she drew her hand away. “Thank you,” told Natasha, looking her straight in the eye with the most reassuring glance she could muster. “That did make it better.” And then some. She'd never considered kissing hands particularly sexy, but she could have let Natasha go on all day if the rational part of her mind hadn't butted in with a warning about boundaries. While she was privy to many details about Natasha's past, she would never assume that she'd be comfortable doing anything in her private life that she'd done on a mission. The choice would always be hers.

“I hate to bring us crashing back to earth,” Maria said, tracing her fingers over the pattern on the torso of Natasha's shirt to reassure her that she hadn't been scared off. “I could sit here all day like this.” She winced as the words left her mouth. Too much too soon? “Anyhow,” she continued, “Whatever this is—” she gestured between them “—it needs some boundaries. I don't want you to feel that I'm taking advantage of you. And yes I know that you could kick my ass if I did. Doesn't change a thing.” Natasha was still unlearning and relearning how to live with her emotions closer to the surface, and Maria wasn't all that confident that she wouldn't trigger some kind of unhealthy attachment if those emotions were prodded in just the wrong way. Whether they decided to explore a deeper relationship or not, Natasha deserved better than that. Hell, anyone deserved better than that.

Natasha nodded. “I can see your point,” she agreed. “I'm willing to see where this takes us, and slow would probably be for the best.” One hand reached forward towards Maria but fell short onto the hat that Maria had left sitting on the bench. “I can't promise to keep my hands entirely still though.”

“I trust you,” Maria said. They were both too professional to let anything casual slip into their working life, and if it became something serious? They could have that conversation then. “Besides, you'd better not keep your hands off,” she ordered with a wink and a lopsided grin. Natasha's wicked grin in return made her shake her head and bite her lip, lamenting the fact that it was neither the time nor the place to go any further. “While I'm loathe to put a stop to all this for now,” she said, pointing up at the heavy dark clouds in the sky, “Looks like all hell's about to break loose up there.” No sooner had she uttered those words than a rumble of thunder sounded and rain started to fall in sheets through the trees of the little mountain. They both stood up immediately and looked for the path back down to flat land. Running straight down the mountain billy goat style with rain slicked rocks was probably not the best decision if they could avoid it.

“Race you back?” Natasha challenged, plucking Maria's hat from the bench and jamming it on her head. She cocked her head towards the trail sign, a promising gleam back in her eyes even as the rain pelted down harder.

“All three miles?” Maria responded. “Easy,” she assured her. Nevertheless she took off through the raindrops before Natasha could answer, knowing that she'd need every inch of advantage to keep up with someone who hadn't spent the last two hours tramping around the woods.

When Natasha caught up with her at the base of the mountain and slowed a little to keep an easy pace just behind her, Maria didn't know whether to be pissed off or elated. On the one hand her competitiveness drove her to want to win fair and square. On the other the fact that Natasha didn't want to run off so easily boded well for the future. Well, Maria didn't have to go easy on her in either case. She picked up the pace to a slightly more strenuous clip, splashing through a few puddles that had already gathered. 

She heard Natasha drop behind her pace, her splashing footfalls slightly fainter. “Distracted there, Romanoff?” she teased, a full-blown grin on her face.

“In your dreams, Hill,” Natasha shot back, speeding up to match pace again.

“Oh it will be from now on,” Maria promised. “It's a shame the only gorgeous view I have up here is the rain.”

********

Maria couldn't help but let out a gasping giggle as they reached the doors. She ran for fun as well as for training, but she couldn't ever remember running being that much fun. Her giggle trailed off as they ducked inside the building, eager to get out of the rain. She schooled her features into an expression of utmost seriousness, nodding at one of the agents who had been temporarily drafted in to staff the security desk. “Agent Shaw,” she said with a nod.

“Training in the rain again, ma'am?” Agent Shaw asked, her features politely but hardly curious. 

“Oh, you know me,” Maria replied, grateful that Shaw understood the unspoken request to ignore the unusual sight. “'Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night' and all that.”

“Of course not,” Shaw concurred. “Oh and Director, er, Agent Coulson left a message for you when you got in. Not urgent though if you want to dry off first.”

“Thank you,” Maria said, shooting her a genuine smile. She was in a hurry to get out of her wet clothes but she very much appreciated how some people like Agent Shaw hadn't batted an eyelid when asked to temporarily take over more menial tasks until a better system was implemented.

“I thought that was the US Postal Service?” Natasha whispered as Maria hip checked the sensor to swipe the badge in her back pocket. Luckily the badges were more water repellent than their clothes. The number of squelching steps to their quarters was thankfully brief.

Maria laughed again, feeling delightfully silly. “Of course you'd know that one too.” She glanced around as they reached her door and turned around, pulling Natasha into her by her belt loops as her badge unlocked her quarters. They stumbled back into her room, slowed by their sodden clothes. “Although technically it describes the ancient Persian Empire,” she added.

“Say that in Farsi and maybe I'll be impressed,” Natasha replied, affecting an air of boredom as she stared at her nails.

“هاورکرافت من پر مارماهى است” Maria said, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out as she said the first phrase that came to mind. Hoping that Natasha wouldn't ask what it meant, she hurriedly added, “Besides, Herodotus wrote about the Persians in Ancient Greek.”

“Nerd,” Natasha pronounced gleefully, darting forward to press a quick kiss to Maria's lips.

“Glad I didn't rub my ass on the door for nothing,” Maria quipped, stopping just short of flopping down on the bed. 

“The door should be so lucky,” Natasha replied, eyeing the wet fabric that clung to Maria like a second skin.

Maria felt a thrill run through her whole body at Natasha's gaze. “I don't break that easily,” she protested, though part of her was screaming for the opportunity to prove it.

“You've never met my hands,” Natasha bragged, her swagger dimmed by the fact that she was biting her lip with just as much anticipation. She deftly flipped the stolen hat off of her head and into her hands, spraying water everywhere as she spun it like a basketball. She tossed it onto the bed with a casual, “I believe this belongs to you.”

“'tasha,” Maria half-moaned at the thought of those hands, swallowing the first syllable of Natasha's name. She shook her head. “No, we agreed to take it slow, and slow we're going to take it.” She closed her eyes, caught up in the vision that her mouth was speaking before her brain could stop it. “No matter that it's so fucking tempting to pin you against the wall and fuck you with my fingers until you scream my name, thin walls be damned. I'd make you put the hat back on though. You'd wear it well, if with little else.”

She opened her eyes a second later to the sound of the door closing behind Natasha, who'd evidently decided that the best way to avoid temptation was to disappear into her own room down the hall. The sound of Natasha's own involuntary soft moan lingered for a second in Maria's ears. Yeah, she still had it.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> козёл: jerk/bastard/ass/etc.  
> Вот ведь козёл: What a jerk/bastard/ass/etc.!  
> هاورکرافت من پر مارماهى است: My hovercraft is full of eels.


End file.
